


Trust

by transjohnnygill



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M, bread making is a fantastic outlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6939049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjohnnygill/pseuds/transjohnnygill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Link was getting sick and tired of Walker's self-sacrificing nonsense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

Bread-making was therapeutic for Howard Link. It was much easier for him to justify taking out his mounting frustration on sourdough than it would be having to explain to Lvellie why he ended up strangling Allen Walker. And at the end of the day, it was easier on Link’s ego to begrudgingly march up to Jeryy’s room and ask for permission to use the kitchen than admit that anyone had _actually_ managed to get under his skin. And Jeryy, bless him, was always kind enough to take one look at Link’s tense shoulders and twitching eye and send him on his way, keys in hand, without so much as a question, only ever asking that he clean and lock back up before he left. It helped that nobody questioned the magical appearance of two dozen loaves of bread that would be found in the mess hall the next day.

He honestly shouldn’t have been as upset as he was, but if he had stayed in that room another minute with Allen in sullen silence… And so he chose instead to throw on a dressing gown and rouse the chef instead, steeling himself for dealing with the consequences of a late-night baking session in the morning.

As had become his usual habit, Link started with a simple dough for roti; it was his small gesture of thanks to the Indian chef for the use of his sanctuary. Flour, water, salt, and oil in a bowl to form the dough and then ten minutes kneading it. It was a mindless task by that point, and just what the inspector needed. He folded and pressed the dough into the flour-covered counter with a little more force than could really be considered necessary.

When he was done, he wrapped it in a cheesecloth and set it to the side for Jeryy to find the next day and then cleared the counter to start working on cinnamon rolls. Slightly more labor intensive, but _so_ worth it. Lvellie thought him odd for it, but Link’s guilty pleasure when making cinnamon rolls was adding chocolate chips into the filling along with a dash of cayenne. It reminded him of Mexican hot chocolate. But despite the extra ingredients, it was basically the same process as the roti: Mix, knead, set aside. Alternate between things that need time to rise, and things that could go into the oven right away.

Roti. Cinnamon rolls. Whole wheat. Banana bread. Challah. Biscotti. Rye. Yeast rolls. Pretzels. Sourdough. Mix. Knead. Cover. Into the oven. Out of the oven. Repeat. As it neared 4am, Link’s arms were aching, but the lingering threads of frustration still clung to his heart as if he had walked through a spider’s web. He pulled a cinnamon roll off of one of the trays, unabashedly cramming it into his mouth as he waited to take the next set of loaves out of the oven.

He wished that he could be angry with Walker; he had every right to be. But instead he was only angry with himself. Angry that Allen doubted his ability to take care of himself. Even angrier that Allen had put himself in harm’s way in order to protect Link. He tried to justify his emotions with the reasoning that it reflected poorly on his capacity to do his job; Link was older, had trained longer, and the main reason why he even went on missions with Walker was to ensure that the exorcist returned to the Order in more or less the same condition that he had left in. And Allen seemed _determined_ to make doing his job as difficult as possible.

But Allen’s heart was in the right place; he held no malicious intent—he only wanted to help, consequences for himself be damned, and Link just couldn’t bring himself to hold it against the younger man. However, even if he couldn’t beat some sense into Walker, he could try beating it into this pizza dough. But right as he prepared his assault against the Italian bread, a light knock came from the door behind him, and Link turned to find Allen standing in the open door way, looking as if he had gotten about as much sleep as Link had that night.

“Mind if I join you…?” Allen shifted back and forth on the balls on his feet, a confused look on his face as his eyes scanned over the almost-literal mountains of bread and baked goods that now took up the majority of the counter space in the kitchen.

Link dusted the flour off of his hands. “You should be asleep.”

“So should you, and yet here we are. I can always go off on my own and find something to do…” Link shot him a disapproving look and pointed to a stool that was tucked next to one counter.

“Sit.”

Allen gave him a small ‘woof’ at the command, but sat down none the less, arms crossed over his chest as he silently watched the blond return to his task. It only took about five minutes before Allen’s stomach gurgled in disapproval over not eating while being surrounded by food. Link covered the last batch of dough and then passed Allen one of the trays of cinnamon rolls, stealing one for himself before busying himself with the oven timer as Allen munched on a roll appreciatively.

“I wanted…to apologize.” Allen said after swallowing. “I know you’re just trying to do your job…but you have to let me do mine too.” Link was taken aback by the intense look on the teen’s face. It wasn’t the usual look of fire and defiance that Walker put on whenever the former CROW was cross with him…it was understanding, but resolute. “I’m an exorcist…it’s not just what I do, it’s who I am, and you can’t just expect me to sit back and watch when—” Link shoved a dinner roll into Allen’s mouth.

“I _expect_ you to not be _stupid_ about it!” He sighed in frustration, “You getting hurt makes doing _both_ of our jobs more difficult. You can’t protect _anyone_ if you’re _dead_!”

Allen sat there stunned as Link lost his composure, the inspector’s knuckles white from gripping the edge of the countertop behind Allen’s back. Link’s forehead rested on Allen’s shoulder, the muscles in his arms trembling. He held his breath as Link drew in a shaky one. After a heartbeat’s hesitation, Allen drew his arms around the other’s midsection, resting his head lightly against Link’s, who initially stiffened at the contact, but then relaxed and settled deeper into Allen’s frame as he calmed down.

“How about a compromise?” Link looked up at the sound of Allen’s voice and tried to move away from the younger teen when he realized just how close their faces were, fighting in vain against the blood that was rushing to his cheeks. Allen just smiled in mock innocence and tightened his arms around Link. “I will… try harder, to not get hurt, to not take unnecessary hits…if you’ll try to trust me more—I know what my limits are, I just…”

“Tend to ignore them with near suicidal efficiency?” Link rolled his eyes as Allen floundered trying to come up with a retort. “Counter offer: I will try to trust that you won’t die on me, if you’ll promise to do the same for me. You can’t expect me to trust you if you can’t trust that I can take care of myself.”

Allen gave him a small grin, stifling a yawn, “Throw in some of these cinnamon rolls and one of those banana breads and you’ve got a deal.” Of course Walker would barter for food. Allen slid off of the stool without letting go of the blond, taking up more of Link’s space. “We good then?”

“Hmph. Of course.”

“Alright…I’m gonna head back upstairs then, okay?” Link gave a stiff nod in response and moved to pull away again, only to have Allen pull him in and press a gentle kiss against his lips. Before he could even process what had just happened, Allen was half-way out the door, only pausing long enough to say, “Don’t stay up too much later!” And then with a quick wave and a smile, the white-haired teen was gone, leaving Link wide-eyed and gaping, face redder than Lavi's hair.


End file.
